


and hearts will be glowing

by crackers4jenn



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: M/M, Mistletoe, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9008599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackers4jenn/pseuds/crackers4jenn
Summary: Rhett's always been a guy who knows how to handle attention well, even the unwanted kind. You have to deflect. But being watched by a room full of his friends, with Link at his side and a twig of mistletoe dangling ominously above them? There ain't no getting out of that, not when Tim starts off the loud 'ohhhhhhh' of delighted realization that soon takes hold of the entire room until there's a literal 'kiss! kiss! kiss!' chant going on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story was equally inspired by:
> 
> \+ This [mistletoe prompt](https://rhinkficathons.tumblr.com/post/154672903009/week-one-weekly-prompts-mistletoe-trying-to) at the Rhink Holiday Ficathon 2k16  
> \+ The [Earbiscuits episode](http://summer-mclaughlin.tumblr.com/post/134538815403/golden-rhett-and-link-moment-on-earbiscuits) where Rhett and Link fessed to the whole wide world they once made eye contact while making out with some girls and... kept on staring at each other???
> 
> Names, places, history, etc has been changed because: fanfiction.

He's going to kill Gregg -- that's if the embarrassment doesn't strike him down first.

Rhett's always been a guy who knows how to handle attention well, even the unwanted kind. You have to deflect. But being watched by a room full of his friends, with Link at his side and a twig of mistletoe dangling ominously above them? There ain't no getting out of that, not when Tim starts off the loud ' _ohhhhhhh_ ' of delighted realization that soon takes hold of the entire room until there's a literal 'kiss! kiss! kiss!' chant going on.

 _Stupid_. He knew the freaking thing was hanging above their kitchen entrance way -- he watched Gregg thumbtack it up there just last night, hoping to get a kiss out of as many girls this party as he possibly could. And considering it was about the only action his friend would see all year long, Rhett wasn't about to go protesting, so he let him, thinking at the time he might've been in the company of a genius.

Well, now here he is, with Link staring up at him, already giving him that smile that's got about three seconds of life left in it before it turns into one of his hysterical, nervous laughs, and every single person crammed inside their apartment's got their eyes locked on the scene him and Link are front and center of, hoping to witness something Rhett's brain has turned over more times than he cares to admit.

"Alright, _alright_ ," Link placates the room, having to raise his voice at the end to be heard over all the ruckus. When the noise dies down, he says, "Y'all got problems, you wanna see me and him kiss so bad. Dang."

"SHUT UP AND DO IT," Tim shouts from the couch, where the Mortal Kombat tournament has been paused out of respect for this moment. Someone else yells ' _woo_!' and people start laughing all over again.

Rhett's staring at Link, looking for a cue. Outside of that crooked smile that's about to turn on him fast, Link doesn't really look any different than usual. He's staring back at Rhett, his eyebrows going way, way up to say, 'we doing this?'

But then he doesn't even give Rhett the chance to back out or confirm. Seized by the opportunity they've been given to shock and awe a crowd of people, Link comes at Rhett, so fast, Rhett's first instinct is to flinch. Link's got a lot of bony areas. Except Link latches onto Rhett's biceps first, fingers wrapping around tight to use his grip as leverage, and then Rhett has about half a second to register a bodily collision and the brand new feeling of someone else's stubble on his lips before it's all over.

The other half of that second later, Link's back on the flats of his feet, in his own space, mock-bowing to the group of people that are now clapping for them like this mistletoe kiss might've been planned ahead between the two of them -- _that Rhett and Link, always so dang funny, what stunt won't they pull???_ \-- and Rhett's brain is struggling to catch up to the moment.

Slapping him on the arm, Link leaves the spotlight to continue into the kitchen, and though time is still moving pretty sluggishly for Rhett, he too realizes the collective attention of the room has already shifted back over to the Mortal Kombat game that's started back up.

Rhett's brought out of his daze in a rush, jostled by Gregg giving him a good-natured shoulder-check.

"I cried," he tells Rhett, cradling his bottle of beer to him closely. "That was beautiful. Really. Seeing my two roommates, my two _best friends_ , finally give into the call of the D..." He pretends to sniff back some emotions. "So beautiful."

"Hm. That's why you came over here yourself?" Rhett gives back casually. When it ain't clicking for Gregg, Rhett doesn't relent eye contact, but he does point up. To the mistletoe.

Gregg turns beet red.

"Dude. Fuck you. You wish."

Ignoring tradition with way more leeway than he gave Rhett and Link, Gregg slips into the kitchen, just as Link's coming back out with two red solo cups full of beer. He hands one off to Rhett, telling him, "You really oughta move," without stopping.

Over his shoulder, he throws Rhett a look, his head gesturing _up_.

Rhett flushes his own shade of 'kill me now' red and moves away quick.

//

Rhett likes Tiffani. He's not, like, _super_ into her, but she's really good friends with Ashley, and Link _likes_ Ashley, so by default he kinda has a thing going with Tiffani. She's got really pretty hair she wears down all the time, so it's not like he's got to try real hard to make himself interested, but all the same, right now she's got her mouth working on leaving marks up and down his neck and his attention keeps drifting.

He doesn't want to acknowledge that it's over to Link, but. Yeah.

But only because Link's making out with Ashley right beside them and two times already Rhett's heard Link groan and he's had a reaction of his own he isn't so proud of.

Rhett doesn't realize he's staring at Link until Link opens up his eyes and stares right back. The way they're positioned, it isn't too hard to imagine that if Tiffani and Ashley were invisible, if someone snapped their fingers and whisked them right out of there, it'd look like him and Link were the ones making out with each other.

That's a crazy thought. Crazier, still, is that Link hasn't looked away yet and neither has he.

The angle ain't so good for holding eye contact, though, and Tiffani runs her hands up his back, reminding him he's got a whole other person to be putting effort into. But realizing he's having to put effort into something that should come naturally and willingly douses the mood for him entirely.

Being gentle, he pries her off of him to put some space between them. Right away she looks confused, but he leans in, telling her, "I gotta get some air."

That turns her look predatory. She glances down, like she's checking for signs of a boner.

"I'll be right back," he tells her, a little louder this time so she can hear him over the sudden whoop that lets loose from near the TV where everyone still hanging around is mostly gathered.

"You want some company?" she asks, thinking this must be Rhett's way of getting them alone.

He doesn't know how to tell her that isn't what he's aiming for here -- the exact opposite, actually -- without hurting her feelings, so he just repeats himself as plainly as possible. "I'll be right back."

"'kay," she tells him, leaning back in to cup her hand over his dick. She gives it a squeeze. "Don't be too long."

With a smirk that almost makes him change his mind, she walks off, headed for the kitchen where they've got all the alcohol.

Rhett looks over at Link again, and finds him already staring. Ashley's blocking the view, but he can tell just by the angle of her arm she's doing to Link what Tiffani had just done to him, only it ain't a tease, it's what was pulling them low groans out of Link earlier.

Very distinctly, Rhett feels jealous. Quickly after that, his stomach threatens to revolt. Guided by that, he makes good on his word to Tiffani and heads for outside, having to go past Link and Ashley to get there. He feels Link's gaze on him the entire time, hears Link call out, " _Hey_ ," to get his attention, but he keeps on going until he's out the apartment.

He doesn't stop there. He skips the elevator and goes for the stairwell. They're only one floor up. He takes the steps two at a time until he reaches the landing that leads to the outside exit.

The first thought he has is, he should've brought a jacket. It's _cold_. But that initial shock of freezing air hits him in a good way. A mind-clearing way. He moves away from the door and heads about twenty feet down to the side, where their apartment's got a stoop and a light.

He's just getting situated, rubbing his hands together and watching his breath fog under the fluorescent glow, when he hears the creak of the door opening again and Link going, "Hey."

That's not a greeting -- that's a demand for an explanation why Rhett's out here. The implication there is Rhett's straight up lost it.

"Needed some air," he clarifies. To prove it, he lets his breath fog around him once more.

Unlike him, Link took the time to put a jacket on. His ski one, too, that's about three sizes too big for him.

Coming closer, Link approaches with his eyebrows raised up high. "You alright?"

They don't talk about their feelings. Even back home, even with the rock system they had down at the river where one of them listened while the other guy spoke, it wasn't set up to spill their guts to one another. More for bureaucratic reasons. Keep the peace. That sort of thing.

Rhett lifts his shoulders in a shrug. He's aiming for casual, but with the temperature as cold as it is, his shoulders go up and kind of just get stuck there, locked in place, seeking out warmer climes.

Link snorts, seeing right through him. "Dude, sit down and scoot over," he tells him, not giving him any option but to obey as he takes a seat too.

It's not a big stoop. They wind up pressed against each other, but Rhett appreciates the body heat and having a buffer against the chill.

For a few minutes, Link's content to just sit. The road they live on doesn't get a lot of traffic, so there's not much to stare at except the row of apartments across the street, but the silence isn't strained.

Link shifts, and his jacket rustles noisily. "You wanna talk about it?"

The word 'it' sets off Rhett's heartbeat like a gunshot before a race. Don't ask him how, but he knows exactly what 'it' Link is referring to. The freaking mistletoe.

What's a guy in a crisis to do except blow it off?

"Not particularly."

Here's the thing -- Rhett has had six years to come to terms with the fact that his feelings for Link aren't exactly usual. If he's being completely honest, there's always been some part of him that's wondered what it would be like to do all the things with Link he's only ever done with girls, but he's been perfectly fine blaming that on the fact that their romantic beginnings are so tangled. Link kissed the same girl Rhett first kissed. Link dated the same girl Rhett first dated. A pattern formed pretty early on that petered out quickly, but it didn't matter, the damage had already been done; Rhett's newly-pubescent mind picked up on the fact that, biologically speaking, sharing the same partner pretty much guaranteed that at one point his and Link's spit had officially swapped. It was a mind-blowing revelation, and even though it shouldn't have meant anything, Rhett let his thoughts wander into 'what if' territory one time and they haven't stopped since.

Sixteen, though, was when he finally figured things out. That wanting to kiss your best friend wasn't just a person's default setting. That all signs pointed toward it being one-sided.

Link's sucking in air through his mouth, making noises to entertain himself with. Otherwise, he's content to just sit and wait out Rhett's silence.

"S'cold," Link says after a moment, casually.

When Rhett doesn't give anything back, Link shifts his whole upper body sideways to look at him.

"I'm fine," Rhett tells him.

"Stupid, more like."

Rhett doesn't take that bait either.

Link knocks his shoulder into Rhett's. "C'mon, man. It's freezing out here. Tell Uncle Neal what's wrong."

Rhett huffs out a small laugh.

Link looks encouraged by it, but he still gets snarky. "Really? That's what does it for you -- 'Uncle Neal?' Nasty, man. You _nasty_."

"You freaking said it, not me."

"'Cause you like it. I know you do, _lookit that_ \--" He's all up in Rhett's personal space, pointing a smug finger so close to Rhett's face, he's pretty much touching his mouth.

Rhett, in retaliation, snaps at him like a fish going after lure, startling Link into laughter.

They're both smiling after, at one another, and the moment drags on a little longer than normal by most people's standards.

"Tiffani, man," Link says, to kill whatever mood Rhett might've been deluded into thinking was forming. "She is _hot_."

She is.

"Yup."

"You like her?"

"You like Ashley?"

There's a split second where Link looks taken aback. Probably because Rhett's got something in his tone that makes it sound hostile and accusatory.

"I mean. You saw what we were up to upstairs, right?" Link waggles his brow at him, to imply some things and to show off. "What do _you_ think?"

He scoffs in a way that's meant to convey humor, but it kind of just sounds sad and defeated.

"She's hot," Rhett agrees with him.

"Uh, yeah. I got eyeballs, you know." Link pauses. "So why am I out here with you?" He says that like he's genuinely asking himself. Like, the second he said it, the second it struck.

Sure enough, when Rhett glances at him, Link's got his brow all scrunched up like he's lost to some mental mathematics that aren't adding up.

"Dunno," Rhett tells him. He's genuinely surprised that comes out normal, considering his heart is all of a sudden in his throat beating a million miles a minute. "Why are you?"

"Think you got a magnet _right_ \--" Link reaches over and pokes Rhett in the ribs on the opposite side. "Here." Then he looks down at himself, sitting up straight and sucking in his stomach. "Think I got one too."

"You mean, like. Polar ends?"

Link raises his brows at him, so high his glasses slip down his nose. "Those the kind that attract each other?"

"Dunno," he says again. This time, there is a catch. He can't help it. _Attract_. Link might as well have said 'confess their secret love spanning over six years' for how stupidly Rhett reacts to it. "You attracted?"

"Dunno. Maybe I got one layer too many on to tell."

"Maybe you oughta take it off."

"Maybe I oughta. But then I'd be freezin'."

"I might help you warm up."

"Oh yeah? And how would you do that?"

"Take it off and find out."

They've got their eyes locked on each other in a draw -- Rhett's gone from glum to buoyant; he doesn't even know what's happening here or where it's leading, but he knows he's almost giddy with the possibility that the thin thread that's been keeping his feelings at bay all these years might finally be coming apart.

Link reaches for the zipper on his jacket, up near his neck. Rhett's eyes go immediately to it, to watch.

"Wait," Link says, realizing something.

Rhett's eyes flick back up to Link's. He licks his lips, unthinkingly, and doesn't miss the fact that Link gets distracted, honing in on that.

Link says, sounding husky, "You do it."

Then he moves his hand and looks down, pointedly, and waits.

Feeling nervous and terrified that he's reading things wrong and just as terrified he's reading things right, Rhett reaches over, grabs the zipper on Link's jacket. It's so high up, his hand brushes the bottom of Link's chin. Feels warm. Feels prickly.

He's not even _thinking_ \-- he forgets about the zipper, turning his hand palm-side up to touch, tentatively, with just the tips of his fingers, the underside of Link's jaw.

Might be him that sucks in the quiet breath he hears.

Might be the freaking _universe_ splitting open around them.

"Yo, yo, yo!" Tim and then Gregg come busting out of their apartment building, hollering obnoxiously. Rhett pulls away _fast_ , but slick as he is, Gregg still catches the movement and supplies his own reason behind it.

"Ohhhh, damn. Damn! Y'all were 'bout to mouth-lock, weren't you?"

Link bursts to his feet, stumbling off the stoop. "Shut up, dude."

"You want us to go back inside?" Tim asks, fakely worried that he interrupted, and just as mockingly considerate. "Let you two finish?"

"We were talking. Okay? Like two friends do."

"I should'a known this was gonna happen. Our walls are _thin_ , man." Gregg starts imitating in a high-pitched voice, " _Oh, Rhett, oh Rhett, pound me with your big meaty dick_ \--"

Link shoves good-naturedly at Gregg, pulling him into a headlock.

"-- _you stud_ ," Gregg keeps on going, strained-sounding from both the effort to break out of Link's hold and to not laugh, " _\--fuck me with your chinstrap_!"

"Hilarious," Rhett deadpans, getting to his feet just as Gregg shoves himself free.

Tim says, "But, yo. Real talk. Ashley's making out with John Carson."

"What? For real?" Link says mournfully, bailing without another word. He pulls the apartment door open and bolts upstairs, halfway up before the door's swung back shut after him.

Tim turns to look at Rhett, calculatedly. "So."

"Man, fuck off."

Gregg laughs, punching Rhett lightly on the shoulder. "We're messing with you, buddyroll. Ease up."

"It's cold as balls," Tim announces, rubbing his hands together. He didn't bother to grab a coat either, and he's only got on a shirt. "Fuck it. I'm going back up." He starts backing away, gaze locked on them. "You coming?"

"In a sec," Gregg tells him.

Tim makes a noise that pretty much implies Gregg, instead, had said, 'I gotta suck Rhett's dick first.' With another suggestive look, he flings open the door and disappears inside.

"Classy motherfucker," Gregg marvels.

"Right. Well. Enjoy," Rhett tells him graciously, trying to split in style, but Gregg darts in his path with way more agility than a guy as drunk as he is should have.

"Hey, hey, hey. Hold on now. You gotta pay the toll first."

Rhett snorts. He snorts again when he realizes Gregg's dead serious.

"I'm not trying to, like. Make a move on you. I know you're saving yourself for Neal."

"Man, that's--"

"Spot fucking on? Like, so spot on, I might be a witch? Ohh _hh_ hhh _h_ ," he wiggles his fingers at Rhett's face, aiming for spooky. Rhett slaps them away. " _Hey_."

"That's what a ghost says, you jackass."

"Oh. Yeah." Gregg laughs. "Whatever! Point is, you got a thing for our fine, slim-bodied friend. It's cool."

The face Rhett pulls at that suggestion -- okay, that description -- isn't even fake.

Gregg pushes one of Rhett's shoulders. "I'm givin' you my blessing here! Shoot. Appreciate it."

"I mean, you're wrong, so."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"But am I?"

" _Yes_."

"Am I?"

"I'm going inside."

"So, that talk I had with Neal, 'bout you, then... you _don't_ want to hear about it? Hey, whatever, it's cool--"

"Hold up. What talk?"

Gregg shrugs like he couldn't be more disinterested in their conversation, looking away.

"You're serious?" Rhett demands. "He said somethin' about me?"

"Oh, _now_ you wanna talk."

"Are you messin' with me, man?"

"Yeah," Gregg admits, laughing. Rhett must look some kind of murderous, because Gregg backs up against the wall, his hands pulled protectively in front of him. " _Not about this_. I swear."

With his brain working like crazy to make sense of things, Rhett joins Gregg's side, leaning back against the cold brick of the apartment building.

"So. Okay. It wasn't like, a full-on confession," Gregg tells him, kicking at the ground in front of him for no reason other than -- talking about feelings might kill one or both of them dead, purely from awkwardness. Still he goes on, "But, remember last week, when you 'n me were talkin' about who to invite tonight?"

Rhett remembers that conversation going more like :

Gregg: DUDE. I'm gonna throw a sick ass party Friday night.  
Rhett: Cool.  
Gregg: Gonna ask every babe I know.  
Rhett: Cool.  
Gregg: You got a girl to ask?  
Rhett: [shrug]  
Gregg: Break out the contacts list, brother, 'cause I'm planning [listing them off one-by-one on his fingers] alcohol, my charming ass, beer, mistletoe, and more alcohol. PREPARE YOURSELF.

Rhett tells Gregg, now, "Yeah?"

"Well, Neal heard, and he started asking me all these questions after like, 'you throwing a party?' Yeah. 'You inviting girls?' Duh. 'Rhett inviting anyone?' Like I'm keepin' tabs on you."

Hopeful as Rhett first was, what he's hearing isn't blowing his mind any. Ashley and Tiffani upstairs are living proof Link was only trying to be a good wingman.

"To the casual ear," Gregg carries on, "that's one dude looking out for another dude. But I told him you had a chick lined up -- I was gonna throw a lil' 'YOUR MOM' at him when he asked who -- _heh_. But, okay. You remember that time I went to McDonalds to get us some McRibs, only on the drive home--"

"You freaking ate mine and I didn't get any, 'cause you're a JERK. _Yes_."

"That! That voice right there. That's how he sounded when he asked who it was you were asking. Like he was gonna punch me, and, man. I'm just the messenger."

Rhett considers this. Not for very long, though, because maybe Link did get jealous thinking Rhett had a girl to invite, but it's obvious it's only because at the time he didn't and thought he might feel left out later.

"Whatever. He's upstairs with Ashley anyway."

"Pfft. He's tryin' to make you jealous."

It takes everything in him not to roll his eyes. "Okay."

"He is!"

"Okay. Well. It ain't working."

Gregg snorts. "Sure. We're just out here havin' this conversation 'cause I like feelin' my balls shrivel." Getting serious, Gregg faces Rhett, giving him the sort of look that alerts him a pep talk is about to go down. "I figured it out a while ago, you were gay for Neal."

"I'm _not_ \--"

"When you jerk off in the shower, you say his name."

So.

That's not something he can argue.

Gregg laughs a little. The way they're huddled, it fogs up around them. "Makes me all tingly to hear."

Pained beyond any physical measure, Rhett aims for apologetic and lands somewhere around 'shamed to even be alive.' "Gregg..."

"Dude, we all got headphones for a reason. I'm just fucking with you. Plus I don't care, which is what I've been trying to say this whole time. I might start to, if you man up and go tell Neal how you feel and I gotta start walking in on you two dry humping on the couch with your wangs flying free--"

Rhett, again, has to use actual force to get his friend to shut up, lest he perish of embarrassment. He elbows Gregg until Gregg's words turn into an _oof_ of pain.

"Say you're right," Rhett throws out there. Just a guy talking hypothetically. "Say I do have... whatever, for Link. Feelings."

"I've been saying."

"You think I should tell him?"

"Let me put it this way. Five years from now, from this exact moment, what do you think that scene's like? You, standing alone outside Neal's Christmas party, pining away like some sad sack while he's macking on his wife inside the Neal family home? I mean. Sounds pretty tragic if you ask me."

Rhett's mind zooms to that future fast -- him standing outside some well-manicured 2-story home in the suburbs, watching through the snow-tinted window as the five-years-older version of Link and some mysterious blonde woman lock lips in front of a Christmas tree, a kid or two nipping at their heels. It burns thinking about it, in his chest, in his eyes, in his freaking _soul_.

He feels Gregg slap a hand to his shoulder, where it lands and hangs out for the sake of camaraderie.

"McLaughlin, go get your man."

Right. _Right_.

//

He can't find Link anywhere.

Rhett came right back upstairs, barging into their apartment, expecting to immediately lock eyes with Link, only he's nowhere to be found.

Ashley's making out with John Carson still. Who he _hates_.

Tiffani's got her tongue down someone else's throat, too.

But Link's just flat _gone_.

Tim slides up to Rhett's side, where he's still standing by the front door, scanning the room. Tim takes a sip of his beer.

"Try your bedroom."

Rhett honest-to-god has no clue what's gotten into his friends, or what they're getting out of this (at this point, he's willing to throw everything he owns on the line that this is all some elaborate prank that's going to end with Rhett the butt of the joke) but the slim chance exists that Gregg wasn't messing with him and he's got to find out if that's the case.

Easing past the people mingling around the couch, Rhett makes his way to their bedroom.

And, yeah. There's a thing that's fucked with him in more ways than the obvious -- sharing a bedroom with the guy he's had not-so-platonic feelings for is _awesome_. Like a brand new mindfuck each and every day. The number of times Rhett's thought he might experience premature heart failure because Link decided to lounge around their room, post-shower, in nothing but a robe, is enough to warrant one of them Life Alert bracelets. 

Their door's shut, so Rhett taps his knuckles against it and feels the _boom-boom-boom_ pulsing in his own head.

He doesn't expect Link to hear, since the party has died down only in terms of snacks.

For good measure, he knocks again, but this time he doesn't wait to hear out a response before he lets himself in.

Link's on his bed, laying with his hands folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. At Rhett coming in and closing the door behind him, he lifts his neck to look up, but seeing that it's only Rhett, he drops it back down to give the ceiling his attention again.

Rhett moves in until he's at the foot of Link's bed.

Link's is a twin-size, and it's pushed up against the wall with the window. Rhett's got a full-size flush with the opposite wall, and he feels bad fairly often about taking up most of the room with his giant freaking mattress, but he's a big guy. He needs the space.

(Never mind that they're two grown adults sharing one bedroom. That's a life reevaluation for another day.)

Link says, "Hey, Rhett."

"What happened?"

"I think our ceiling's got like a -- mm, looks like the Predator, from that one movie. You remember?"

Rhett's brain dissects every part of what Link's saying piece by piece and he's still coming up blank.

"Huh?"

Link nods at the ceiling. "I'm seeing all sorts of things up there. Kinda like all them lil' popcorn ceiling things are clouds or somethin'. What's that ink blot test they give ya to see if you're crazy or not? It's like that."

"You drunk?"

Link breathes out a laugh. "No." Then he wiggles his whole body until he's scooted to the side of the mattress that's touching the wall, and pats next to him. "C'mere."

Come there. To the bed. That Link is laying on. To join him.

Rhett approaches so cautiously, you'd think he was heading toward guaranteed doom. But, no, it's only bewilderment that's got him moving in slow motion and wondering just how drunk he himself is if this is the sort of thing he's now hallucinating.

Only problem is, he isn't drunk at all and this isn't a hallucination. The bed is real and solid beneath his hands. Link doesn't let up eye contact with the ceiling even as Rhett plops down in an undignified fashion beside him.

"As you can see," Link says to Rhett right away, rolling his body towards Rhett until he finds the place where they come in contact, arm-to-arm and leg-against-leg. He's using his left hand to point up, outlining a picture in the ceiling only he sees. "That's the face. That's the hair. I forget what he looks like, 'cause -- I got scared and I quit watching like ten minutes in," Link admits, soft and hushed and just for the two of them. "But that's freaking Predator."

When Link looks over to make sure Rhett's paying attention and following along, Rhett figures twenty-two is as good of an age as any to lose his mind; he tilts his head down and kisses him. Kisses _Link_.

There's no way Link could've been expecting it, but he lets it happen for all of four second before he whips his head back and laughs out crazily.

" _What_ the--"

There's more panicked laughter after that. Which, unsurprisingly, doesn't rally a whole lot of confidence for a guy trying to confess his feelings through mouth-on-mouth action alone. Feeling his throat closing up and his eyes burning with shame and a humiliation so strong, it almost feels like it's climbed on top of him, like it's caving in his chest, Rhett goes to remove himself from the bed, from the room, from this _stratosphere_ \-- only Link reaches out and stops him, almost as if he's offended.

"Hey, wait up now. Rhett."

Rhett lies back down flat and closes his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose to the point his vision goes red.

"Would you believe me if I told you that was a joke?" he tries.

Link's hovering partly over him. Not that he can see, because he's determined to live out the rest of his life in this position of defeat. But he can feel the warmth and solidness against him, and Link's breathing too, lapping at the side of his face like waves.

"I might, if we were laughing."

"Ha," Rhett offers. It might be the worst replica of a laugh ever, considering his throat is making him sound like he's gonna burst out crying. He's not gonna even bother mentioning that two seconds ago, Link _was_ laughing, because honestly, the memory is brand freaking new but it still stings like hell.

"You drunk?"

"Maybe," Rhett allows. He likes that excuse. That's a good one -- _sorry I fell on your lips and kissed you, I was drunk_. That holds up. He might use that down the line when Link's kicking Rhett to the curb and all their friends are gathered around to watch, judging him.

"Well, I ain't," Link tells him, and Rhett only just has enough time to pull his hand away and open up his eyes before Link's got his mouth pressed right on top of his.

It feels like someone declared the inside of his head a demolition site, then lit the explosives before he had time to clear out. By the time Rhett comes back to himself, there's a ringing in his ears, but that's just the rush of blood shoving rationality out of the way in place of pure, unadulterated horniness.

Link pulls back (probably because one minute in, the only thing Rhett's done so far is mentally congratulate himself on not springing an instant boner) and he's got that look on his face he gets when he's second-guessing a third bowl of cereal.

That ain't about to happen now -- Rhett slides his hand around the back of Link's head and drags him back down.

Link makes a noise against Rhett's mouth -- a sort of sputter that's as much of a laugh as it is a startle -- and Rhett any other time might've spared a thought of consideration about it. To tone things down. Take it slow. Maybe not curl his fingers as tightly in Link's hair as he is for fear of realizing this is nothing but a dream that wakes him out of sleep and into a hangover. But that is for the Rhett of the future to act on, the Rhett who's kissed Link so many times, by that point, there's no need to rush, it's second-nature.

There's a hand working at undoing one of the middle buttons of his flannel. It takes him a second to realize it's Link, and then it takes him another second to chill the fuck out, because he is a guy who suddenly believes in spontaneous coming. He's never experienced it before -- been close with some girls, especially the first few times he got past 'just the tip' territory, and has heard from other guys it happens -- but the way he's feeling now, he could be a door-to-door preacher sermonizing off of a firsthand testimonial.

He slides his free hand between them, until he can wrap his fingers around Link's wrist, which is so freaking slim they go all the way around and then overlap. He does have noble intentions, for the record. He plans to cease and desist in the hope of addressing whatever's happening between them, as two adults ought to. But Link mistakes that for permission to slide his hand down Rhett's stomach, taking Rhett's hand with him. The next thing Rhett knows, there's a weight on his dick that turns tentatively into a grip, and then a squeeze.

Possessed by something he's gonna claim later is 'fine mental bearings and excellent poise' but in actuality is more 'animalistic desire to hump,' Rhett heaves his whole body into a roll that pushes Link down onto the bed, so it's Rhett who's got the propped up advantage while Link's doing the reclining.

That winds up breaking the kiss, but only in the sense that their lips separate for a split second before Link's using a surprising amount of neck muscles to bring their mouths back together.

Rhett's got a pretty good angle here, pressing as much of himself as he can against Link. Their hands are squished between them, so he's got to roll his hips forward to get that pressure back, but he doesn't mind doing that one bit, especially when it makes Link let out a noise like he _likes_ having Rhett shove his rapidly hardening dick against his hand.

Link stops kissing him. He pulls back so he can say, "Gosh, Rhett," in pure wonderment, which immediately soars to the top spot of Best Reactions In Bed Rhett's ever had, simply because it's Link the one saying it.

Plus, he knows exactly what Link means, even if Link didn't really even say anything. 'Gosh' about covers the gist of it.

"I know," he says, unable to resist leaning back in and nosing at the side of Link's jaw.

"I mean." Link's got his non-squished hand coming to settle high up on Rhett's shoulder, like he's torn between stopping Rhett or pulling him closer. "The heck are we even doin' here?"

"Pretty sure this is nuzzlin'," Rhett lets him know.

Rhett can feel the goosebumps all that nuzzling is causing for Link.

Link's playing dirtier, though. With purpose, he flattens his other hand, that squished hand, so his knuckles are pushing against the front of Rhett's jeans.

"What's this then, genius?"

Rhett chokes out, "Boner."

He's joking. He ain't wrong -- but he's joking.

Link snorts a small laugh. It works to dispel some of the tension that had started to brew. It also makes Rhett realize how freaking stupid he's been to ever think Link didn't love him back.

He doesn't mind putting that out into the universe now. Love. He loves Link. As far as he can tell, the locusts haven't started swarming and the apocalypse seems to be at bay. He loves Link, and the world hasn't come crashing to its knees because he admitted it.

The mood between them has dialed from 'imminent orgasm' down to 'post-coital glow' without them reaching conclusion, so to say.

Rhett wants to push that. He also kind of wants to call a time out so he can pick up his guitar and put music to all the things he's feeling inside right now like a big sap.

"So," Link says. He lets go of Rhett and rolls onto his back, one hand propped behind his head. "Gregg told you, then?"

"He's got a big mouth."

"I'mma ignore that innuendo, 'cause it seems inappropriate. But, yeah. He sure does."

"You mad?"

Link's eyebrows go into his hairline. "That he told you?"

Rhett shrugs.

"No," Link answers him. "You?"

Slowly, Rhett starts to smirk.

Link shoves at him. "Listen, if I knew all it took was a sprig of mistletoe, I'd've made Gregg hang the thing _ages_ ago."

Rhett's gotta travel about four seconds back in time to make sense of that.

He rears back a little, to face Link better.

"Wait up. You mean it was you who had the idea for mistletoe?"

"Well, yeah. Gregg didn't tell you--?"

Gregg.

That goddamned mastermind.

Rhett's gonna get him something special. Maybe a Discman.

That's _after_ he picks up where he and Link left off. With their penises.

//

(It isn't that much later -- days, actually -- that Rhett learns Link's feelings for him do, in fact, go as far back as middle school, back to when Rhett first kissed Amber and something inside of Link seemed to just click in place.

"You should'a said something, man," Rhett tells him as they're finishing rearranging the room now that Link's twin bed is gone, it no longer being necessary since they've started sharing Rhett's bed. 'Conserving space,' Link likes to call that, with practicality. 'Gettin' biblical' is what Rhett likes to refer to it as, lewdness implied. "We could'a been doing so much stuff together this whole time."

Link drawls, "You mean, like taking a blood oath, or choosin' that engineer degree over film school, or moving in with each other right outta college?"

"Shut up."

"Love you too, Rhett."

There's a beat that Rhett spends helpless to the smile that takes over him entirely.

Then he says, "Wanna make out in the living room 'til Gregg gets home?"

Link doesn't waste a single second thinking about it. " _Yes_.")

**Author's Note:**

> aka this is the story in which Gregg is a hero of the people.
> 
> (I am genuinely sorry there is no sex here. It happened, though, they totally boned.)


End file.
